


Roses Are Red

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [26]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Emotional, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Happy Ending, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Spencer Reid Whump, That's right we got the whole squad here, Whump, Whumptober 2020, emotional with a capital Emote, that's right bois, this is one of my emotional fics, this is probably the most characters i've used so far but that's not important, we love happy endings in this household
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Spencer's had plenty of MRI's before now. How could none of the doctors notice this?Day 26: Alternate Prompt 6: Altered State
Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948174
Comments: 43
Kudos: 204
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Roses Are Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Hi! So as promised, I'm bringing you the resolution from day 10!! All I have to say- is that I'm really really really happy about how this one came out, and I'm genuinely proud of my writing for today's fic! I really hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> Please Enjoy! :D

Spencer wakes up to something solid behind him. Pushing off the blankets, he turns to find his old Advanced Mathematics book, along with a flashlight on top. Spencer frowns when he realizes he no longer fits on his bed, feet hanging off the edge.

And then it hits him.

Spencer, with his far too long legs, sits on his bed in awe, looking at the dreary room around him. His childhood room. The last time he saw it was when he was eighteen, but now he’s in his thirties, seeing all of the pieces from his short-lived childhood.

When he steps off the bed, Spencer’s bare feet pad around the room, taking him to each of the little pieces of young Spencer. There are some books that Spencer swore he would never see again. A few socks are thrown around the corners of his room, and none of them match to make a pair. It feels like he’s in a time capsule.

Shortly after, Spencer discovers that the rest of his house is also stuck in time. 

The dirty stove, because Spencer was never tall enough to clean it off, the grime littering the tiles in the bathroom, and the sliding door that nearly became opaque from spider webs. It’s exactly how he remembered.

The front door is open, and Spencer steps out, just like he did for the very last time when he was eighteen. A couple walk by, child swinging between them, leashed dog on the side. The dog and the child walk with the same thrilled enthusiasm. None of them pay attention to Spencer.

Without meaning to, his legs take him to the old park with the older chess tables and the oldest trees. Even the smells are the same old Nevada that he was once used to. The park is filled with little kids wearing bell bottom jeans, playing a particularly violent form of tag, based on the amount of times a kid has fallen and scraped their knee.

Parents and kids run straight past him, as if he isn’t even there.

“Hello?” Spencer calls out. “Hey!”

No one seems to notice him, and they keep going on their day like normal. 

“Hey!” There’s not a single head turn, and Spencer frowns. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Spencer walks in front of a mom on a park bench, waving his hand in front of her. She watches on like she can see straight through Spencer. “Hello?” 

When there’s still no response, Spencer spins around, looking at the world around him. Why can’t anyone see him? Or even hear him? 

Swallowing, Spencer finds a man reading a newspaper a few meters away, and tries to get his attention. Much to Spencer’s dismay, he doesn’t seem to notice the agent either. Spencer reaches out to touch his shoulder, but stops short when he sees the front page of the newspaper.

**Las Vegas Review-Journal, February 22, 1987**

*

JJ wakes with a start, head jerking up. She thinks it’s from a bad dream, but it’s already faded, and at the moment she has more pressing things to worry about.

“You okay?” Emily asks with concern.

Swallowing, JJ nods, “I’m fine. Bit of a stiff neck from sleeping on your boney shoulders though,” She adds, making a dramatic show to stretch her neck. “Any more news?”

“Oh really? Next time you’ll be sleeping on my knees,” Emily threatens with a smile. Sobering, she sighs and reports, “They called Hotch back,” Motioning to a set of double doors. “About thirty minutes ago, and we haven’t seen him since.”

Checking her phone, JJ frowns, “It’s been twelve hours. Why don’t we know anything yet?”

Handing a cup of coffee to her, Morgan replies, “Hotch’ll tell us when he comes back out. Just a few more minutes, I’m sure.”

Sniffing the coffee, JJ replies, “Yeah,”

Sure enough, a few minutes later Hotch comes out of the double doors, looking exactly how one would expect after not sleeping for over twenty-four hours.

“Aaron?” Rossi questions, giving him a concerned look.

Hotch shuffles to the rest of his team, before slumping into a chair and dragging a tired hand over his face. “I explained the family situation with Reid, and the doctor’s coming out to talk to all of us,”

It’s not missed by any of the profilers that Hotch blatantly avoided saying anything about their youngest agent.

JJ’s the first one to speak up about it. “Is it- is he…?”

Hotch looks at the ground when he reports, “It isn’t good.”

*

Spencer can feel a panic attack coming on, and every time he’s nearly able to calm himself down, the strange world around him comes crashing down in his head and he begins to freak out again.

February of 1987? Spencer was only four, around the time that he first learned about his mom. Why’s he reliving this moment, and more importantly, how is he reliving this moment?

Ever the scientist, Spencer checks with over a dozen people to make sure that no one can see him or hear him. When he tries to knock down a cup, no one pays attention, as if it’s completely normal for a styrofoam cup to go flying like an elaborate illusion.

This isn’t one of Spencer’s magic tricks though. He has no idea what’s happening.

A small kid zooms past him, kicking a soccer ball the size of his head, narrowly avoiding running straight into a tree. Spencer watches him run by, laughing in the wind, until he turns around to kick the ball back.

“Riley?” Spencer questions to no one in particular.

The six year old looks like how he remembered from his childhood and the old case photos, and Spencer can easily picture the boy’s shoes behind the washing machine. 

Riley Jenkins continues to kick the soccer ball back and forth through the park, occasionally stopping to throw dirt and grass at the little girls. It’s a completely innocent picture, but Spencer still stands in awe.

At some point, he kicks it over to where the chess tables are, and it knocks a handful of pieces off.

“Sorry mister!” Riley calls, already scooping up the pieces along with his ball. “I didn’t mean to knock down your game,”

The man grins, and replies, “It’s no problem, son,” Motioning to the seat across from him, the man questions, “Would you like to play a game?”

Riley’s nose crinkles in disgust as he replies, “Chess? Ew. I’m not Spencer,”

Spencer’s head immediately shoots up, and he nearly runs over to the tables. He visibly shudders when he sees who’s playing.

“Spencer, you say? And where’s he?” Gary Michaels asks with a grin that could rival the devil.

Riley shrugs and replies, “I dunno. I think he ‘eated’ and went home. Bye mister!” He calls out again, already kicking his ball once more.

Spencer hears a sigh behind him, “Even on my lucid days, I swore that man was a demon.”

“Mom?”

*

JJ buries her face into the nearest person, which happens to be Emily. Sobbing into her chest, she murmurs, “I don’t understand, how could this happen?”

“They’re difficult to notice early on, especially if you don’t know what to look for,” The doctor tries to soothe, giving a sad smile. “I’m sure when Doctor Reid got his MRI’s earlier, his doctors searched the best they could’ve in the circumstances.”

Shuddering, JJ continues, “But a brain tumor? How didn’t anyone notice? It’s a- God,” She cuts herself off, sobbing.

Along with Emily, Morgan rubs a comforting hand on JJ’s back. “It’s gonna be okay,” Morgan soothes, but it’s hard when he doesn’t fully believe it himself. 

Giving Hotch a worried look, Rossi asks, “What’s going to happen now? What can we do?”

Breathing in, the doctor replies, “There’s not many options. Surgery, to save as much of his nervous and neurological systems as we can,”

Emily holds JJ tighter when her sobs echo in the waiting room.

Giving a sympathetic loose smile, the doctor continues, “It’s a difficult procedure. We’re going to take a few more images on the MRI and perform a spinal tap, to confirm the type of tumor.”

“Which is?” Rossi asks.

Sighing softly, she reports, “Right now it appears to be a pineoblastoma, but again, we’re going to do a few more tests before I can say with full certainty.”

Taking his eyes off of JJ, Morgan questions, “How bad is it?”

“I won’t lie, it’s not the best. That being said, it’s by no means the worst I’ve ever seen. I have hopes that surgery will give the best chance for Doctor Reid.”

Rossi curses in a few different languages that only Emily knows, before rubbing a hand over his face. After, he turns to his Unit Chief, who has been suspiciously quiet during the conversation. “Aaron?”

Blinking a few times to pull himself out of his thoughts, Hotch mumbles, “I’m going to step outside,” Before hastily leaving the room.

No one says anything, and the only things that can be heard behind the soft waiting room TVs is JJ and her sobs.

*

“Mom?” Spencer questions. “Can you see me?”

Smiling, Diana replies, “Of course, Spencer. Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer replies, “No one else can. What’s happening? Where are we?”

“We’re back home in Nevada, sweetheart,” Diana replies. “Don’t you recognize it?”

“But it- I’m an adult,” Spencer attempts to explain. “And this is in the eighties. Is this some sort of elaborate hallucination or something?”

Diana raises her eyebrows. “Hallucination? No, baby, you don’t have schizophrenia,”

“You can’t know that,”

“A mother knows, Spencer. Now tell me, what isn’t making sense to you?” 

Spencer gives her a look of disbelief. “What isn’t making sense? Mom, look around! No one can see or hear us, and I’m living through my childhood!”

Sighing, Diana states, “It’s rather unfortunate that you’re reliving this part of your life.”

“This part?”

“This is the first time Gary Michaels set his eyes on poor Riley,”

Spencer’s head jerks towards his mom. “How could you know that?”

Cryptically, she answers, “There are, certain things, that you learn in age,”

“I don’t understand,” Spencer swallows. “This is all in my head, right?” Despite want he wants the truth to be, Spencer knows that none of this makes scientific sense.

“Of course it’s in your head, baby.”

“What- what happened? How did I get here?”

Placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Diana leads him to an empty swing set. “Sit. We’ll talk.”

*

Rossi finds Hotch in the parking lot, getting dirt and old cigarette ash on his suit. “Aaron?”

As an answer, Hotch replies, “I should’ve paid more attention to him,”

“Aaron, you couldn’t have known what the doctor’s didn't.”

Shaking his head, Hotch protests, “He’d been having bloody noses for months, Dave.  _ Months. _ I should’ve known something was up. I just thought it was from stress,”

Sitting down next to him, Rossi points out, “So did we. The rest of the team all saw his bloody noses too. This isn’t on you.”

Biting the insides of his cheek until it bleeds, Hotch murmurs, “I should’ve made him see a doctor. God fucking dammit. Fuck!”

“Aaron-”

Hotch suddenly stands up, swatting away an attempt at a comforting hand. “I’m his proxy,” He suddenly announces. “I need to make a decision.”

Even after Hotch has left, Rossi continues to sit on the curb, idly watching people file in and out of the hospital, wondering when it all went wrong.

*

Sighing, Spencer announces, “The headaches never really got worse, so I just stopped worrying about them.”

“But then you started getting bloody noses,” Diana points out.

“Yeah,” Spencer agrees. “I just didn’t want to think anything of them.”

“But it turned out to be cancer.”

Rocking back and forth on the old swing, Spencer murmurs, “I didn’t want anything to be wrong. That’s why I ignored them.”

“I ignored my own warning signs as well,” Diana confesses, watching the children on the playsets, jumping down the slides instead of using them correctly. “Back when you were, oh, eight years old? Things started getting worse and I just wanted to pretend that nothing was wrong. Your father and I spent so much time fighting, I chalked my symptoms up to that.”

Spencer frowns. “You’ve never told me that,”

“I haven’t told anyone.”

The two sit in silence, until Diana’s eyes find Gary once again. “What a bastard man.”

Spencer’s eyes raise, but he doesn’t say anything.

“He would’ve gone after you next, you know that right, Spencer?”

“What?”

Shaking her head, Diana explains, “I knew from the very first time that I saw you playing chess with him. He had his demon eyes on you.”

“You helped kill him.”

“And you were never hurt.” Diana points out, seemingly unalarmed with the the reminder that she’s an accessory to a murder that took place over two decades ago.

Not in the mood to argue, Spencer finally questions, “Mom, why are you here?”

“What do you mean, baby?”

Looking down, Spencer asks, “If this is all in my head, why are you here? Why am I not alone?”

Sighing, Diana slowly answers. “It’s never good to make big life decisions alone.”

“‘Life decisions’?”

“You have the most important choice of your life right now, Spencer.”

“What is it?”

“Do you want to stay, or leave?”

*

Emily forces JJ to drink something other than coffee, muttering something about dehydration from all of her crying. JJ sends her a look, but still gulps down the entire water bottle. She rests her elbows on the side of Spencer’s bed, occasionally lifting them up like she wants to move something, before setting them back down.

“He just,” JJ swallows, determined to not cry again. “Looks so small.”

Nodding, Emily agrees, “Yeah. He really does,”

“What’s gonna happen to him?”

“He’s going to wake up.” Emily confidently says. “He has to.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” JJ whispers. “What if something goes wrong, and he doesn’t wake up?”

Grabbing one of Spencer’s hands, Emily reiterates, “He’s going to wake up.”

*

Even with Spencer’s 187 IQ, it takes him a moment to understand what his mom is asking him. His eyes grow wide. “What? I want to stay, what do you mean? I don’t want to leave my team.”

Reaching over to grab his hand from the other swing, Diana soothes, “Baby, I know that. I’m not the one you need to be telling that to.”

A yelling child runs by, attempting to tag a different one who has positioned himself on top of the monkey bars and above the slide. The two children dart back and forth, making figure eights through the playground.

“Who do I need to tell it to?”

“Yourself.” Diana simply answers.

“I already know that I want to stay. How can I tell that to myself when I’m already convinced of it?” Spencer questions, anxiety rising.

Smiling, Diana replies, “Oh baby, I know you’ll find a way.”

“What am I supposed to do? I don’t know what to do, mom.”

Raising her arms, Diana replies, “Look at the world around you, Spencer. You can do whatever you’d like, for as long as you’d like.”

“Are you going to leave again?”

“I’ve never left you, Spencer,” Diana answers. “And I’m not planning on leaving any time soon either, no matter your choice.”

Spencer stays silent for a few moments, before looking Diana in the eyes. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

*

A collection of surgeons, residents, and nurses crowd around Spencer’s body, all covered in blue sheets, save for a square on his skull. Cameras are poked around Spencer’s precious brain matter, and lights are shined in the deepest parts of his head.

When the surgeons finally get a good picture of the glob of cells, they share a look.

It’s not good.

However three floors down, the family of Spencer Reid is ignorant to their findings, still pacing around the oncology ward that they’ve recently been moved to. Someone’s finally gotten Hotch to lie down, but they all know he isn’t sleeping. Morgan’s in the corner on his phone, talking in hushed tones to Garcia, who’s hacking into airlines to get herself on the next flight. Rossi sits on an armchair alone, pressing his fingers to his breast pocket where Carolyn’s first ring still lives. On the couch, JJ and Emily sit completely still, trying to pretend that there aren’t constant puddles of tears in their eyes.

At some point Hotch rolls over and stands up, meeting Rossi’s eyes.

“Aaron?”

“Gonna get coffee,” Hotch waves him off, until Rossi marches over and sits him back down.

“No you are not.” Rossi adamantly replies. “You need sleep,”

Hotch gives him a look, “Dave-”

“For the kid, Aaron. Reid needs you, and not when you’re sleep deprived.”

Groaning, Hotch replies, “I can’t sleep.”

Rossi isn’t impressed. “Try.”

“I have been,”

“Try harder.”

“Dave-”

Shaking his head, Rossi mutters, “You’re as stubborn as the kid, you know that? Listen to me, Aaron. You’re not going to be any help if you run yourself into the ground. We need you alert and in the right state of mind.” Jerking his head back to the couch, Rossi finishes, “Now get some sleep. I’ll wake you when we get more information.”

*

Although Spencer isn’t one for nostalgia, he painfully misses his childhood room.

He misses the books and the stuffed animals that kept him company when his mom screamed at him to stop spilling her secrets. He misses the flashlight that he could crank to get it to work, rather than use batteries which he sometimes couldn’t afford. He misses the smell of his carpet that just smelled like family itself, which he’ll never be able to explain.

Spencer can’t help but sit back on his old bed, back against the adjacent wall.

For the first time in a long time, Spencer feels calm. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of Las Vegas in the 80s, touching his worn but soft bed sheets. Spencer breathes deeply, and enjoys the memories from his childhood. It’s a wonderful, happy feeling.

When Spencer opens his eyes, he jerks back, head hitting the wall behind him.

All of a sudden the colors have faded around him, washed out like a polaroid picture that’s spent far too long in the sun. A deep sepia sets in around him, and no matter how many times Spencer rubs his eyes and blinks, it won’t go away.

Going into the kitchen, Spencer sucks in a breath. The rest of his house is also faded, grays popping out more than actual colors. Even his mom’s study, dramatically destroyed from her schizophrenic fits, looks rather boring.

The grass outside is a dull green, and the sun doesn’t cast down orange rays.

“Don’t be scared, Spencer.”

Turning to the side, Spencer sees his mom, looking as if she was there the entire time. Unlike the world around them, Diana is beautifully radiant, and Spencer stares at her a few moments before opening his mouth. “Mom, what’s happening?”

“It’s okay to say goodbye, Spencer. I promise I’ll be there the entire time,”

Shaking his head, Spencer quickly confesses, “No, no. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to die! Mom, what do I do?” His voice breaks at the end, and he feels his face heat up with tears. “I don’t want to die.”

*

When Garcia arrives, all of the tears the team had been holding back for a few hours are let loose.

The family waiting room of the oncology unit is filled with broken sobs and broken cries and broken tears and broken people.

The noise is gut wrenching, and horrific, the type of scream they hear from families of victims.

Three floors up, surgeons diligently work to free Spencer’s brain from his own murderous body.

*

Diana brings her son, her only son, into a hug. “Spencer, I told you. It’s okay to leave,”

Crying, Spencer replies, “I don’t want to. I want to wake up,”

“Oh, baby,” She croons, petting his hair.

“What do I do? How do I wake up?”

“Only you know how, Spencer.”

Choking on tears, Spencer pulls out of her grasp. “Please mom, help me. I don’t know how,”

“Yes, baby, you do. Wherever you go, I’ll follow your lead.”

Spencer walks down the block, eyes wide when he sees the police cars along the curb. “No no no, that doesn’t make sense. Today’s the 22nd of February, Riley didn’t die today, this doesn't make sense.” Finding the eyes of his mom, he pulls on his hair and reiterates, “This doesn’t make sense!”

“Spencer, we’re in your head. Time doesn’t matter here,”

“I don’t understand,” He mutters, feeling sick when a white sheet covers such a small body. “Do I have to find dad? What do I do?”

“I’ll follow your lead, Spencer,” Diana tells him again, holding tightly onto his hand.

*

The doctors let Hotch go in first. If anything, Spencer looks worse after his surgery.

The rest of the team files in soon after, completely ignoring the two visitor rule. Each of them look at the frail body with varying stages of grief, which doesn’t make sense, because he’s still alive.

“How did the surgery go, Hotch?” Morgan asks, already settling into a chair that he won’t leave until Spencer’s leaving with him.

Quietly, Hotch replies, “They won’t know until he,” Hotch swallows, “Until he wakes up.”

“When will that happen?” JJ asks, biting her nails.

Setting his eyes on Spencer’s face, Hotch stoically replies, “It might not.”

*

The librarians are younger than Spencer remembers. However, their faces and smiles are just as kind as they were when he was a kid.

The first thing Spencer does when he walks in is give a friendly wave to the women running the front desk, out of pure habit. It takes him a second to remember that they can’t see him.

Each of the book spines that stick out are too dull, like his red socks after being put in the washer one too many times. The sun that shines through the wall-length window isn’t as warm as it should be, and the chairs aren’t as soft.

The world is slipping away from Spencer. When he turns back around, the librarians and bystanders are gone, and he’s alone.

He’s read every book in this library, which is a bit terrifying of a thought if he thinks about it for more than a second. Despite that, he doesn’t know what book he should be finding. Whatever’s happening to him isn’t a science, no matter how much he wishes it were.

There’s a few books about neurology in the back that Spencer’s read through, but none of them include anything of use for him. The closest he gets is the highly debated topic on whether or not coma patients can hear and feel the outside world.

Before Spencer can think better of it, he slides down the side of a bookshelf, clutching onto a textbook for dear life. He tips his chin up and cries, clenching his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to die. He wants to be back with his friends. He’s never wanted something more in his life than this.

Spencer wants to live.

After allowing himself a single sob, Spencer opens his eyes, and instantly drops the book.

The world around him has faded of all colors.

“No,” He whispers, nearly launching himself off the floor. “No!” Like a mad man, Spencer rips out book after book from their organized places, trying to find something, anything, that has color. “This can’t be happening,” Spencer whispers to himself.

Spencer can’t help it when he sinks back to the floor, arms wrapped around himself, a cruel substitute for a real hug. “I don’t want to die,” He murmurs.

“Then prove it, Spencer,” Diana states, appearing from the side of a bookshelf.

“I don’t know how!” Spencer sobs. “Help me, please. Don’t let me die!”

“It’s not up to me, baby,” She soothes, crouching down to hold her child. “If it were up to me, you’d never die,”

Sobbing, Spencer replies, “I’m not ready to go. I’m not ready to die,”

Rubbing comforting circles on his back, Diana softly replies, “Sometimes we have to do things we aren’t ready for.”

*

Emily’s running a slow hand through JJ’s hair, looking down at Spencer’s body, trying her best to not pay attention to the bandages wrapped around his head. A quick glance around tells her that the rest of the team is sleeping, albeit fitfully.

She sighs, taking her other hand and squeezing Spencer’s. “Don’t do this to us, Reid. You can’t do this to us.”

*

Blacks fade to gray, and whites fade to gray, and before he knows it, the whole world is fading to gray.

Clutching his mother’s shirt, Spencer sobs, “Don’t leave me, please, please, mom. I don’t want to be alone when I die,”

With a soft whisper, Diana replies, “You won’t ever be alone, baby. Never.”

*

The first thing Emily notices are the tears falling down his face. 

She thinks that it’s her sleep deprived brain playing tricks on her, but that still doesn’t stop her heart from stuttering. “J-JJ,” She whispers, staring at Spencer wide eyed.

“Emily?” JJ questions, clouded by sleep. After seeing the other woman’s face, JJ turns to look. “Spence? Spencer?”

“Is he crying?”

Breathlessly, JJ responds, “I think he’s waking up,”

In a matter of seconds, the entire BAU is awake, crowding around Spencer’s bed, despite the nurses doing their best to hold them back. 

Tears fall down through Spencer’s closed eyes for minutes, until his fingers and eyelids twitch. JJ grabs his hand, squeezing as tightly as she dares.

When Spencer blinks up to see his team, he cries harder.

And although it’s hoarse, they can all hear Spencer whisper, “Mom was right. Only I knew how.”

**Author's Note:**

> :)  
> I had so much fun writing this fic, and I'm just really happy about how it came out :D This is one of these fics where I'm just really proud of myself, and it came out exactly how I wanted it to, and yeah!!
> 
> As always, you all can come talk with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies) if you'd like! I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3
> 
> Much love to all of you, and take care until tomorrow!! <3


End file.
